


Your Existence is the Worst Part of Being Trapped In Here

by keylore



Category: Baldi's Basics (Video Game)
Genre: Deepthroating, Fluids, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape, Strangling, blowjob, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 21:16:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21042908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylore/pseuds/keylore
Summary: Baldi would've been content with living a simple, ordinary life.Filename2 had decided to twist that life into something worse.





	Your Existence is the Worst Part of Being Trapped In Here

Baldi’s hearing was his most prized skill, so precise, a lifeline that was always there for him to grab onto. It was ever-present, constantly nudging information towards Baldi in the form of sounds and noises, letting him know about the tiniest shifts in the world around him. _Yeesh, doesn’t that get annoying_, people sometimes asked him. No thought had to be spared to the matter. There’s only a straightforward reply of _no, it’s actually quuuite comfortable_. It was like someone was hanging out with him at all times, eager to share their findings with him, do you hear that, did you notice it, don’t you want to know what’s making that sound? He knew full well that it was just himself, just one of his own senses, there’s nobody there. Despite that, he still treasured that secure feeling that he wasn’t alone. He was content in the company of himself.

Right now, his hearing was setting off alarms in his head simply by not being there. Well, it- it _was_ there, but not in the way it should be. It was distant. Unfamiliar. It had pried Baldi’s fingers off of its’ metaphorical sleeve to put distance between it and him, as if it possessed a secret, something so intimate that it couldn’t share it with Baldi. He could still hear _himself_. The flow of blood in his veins; the beat of his heart, slowly growing frantic, having caught up on the fact that something was terribly wrong; the soft scratch of his eyes tilting in their sockets. The thing was, _his_ noises were all there, _but_ it was the outside world that had gone quiet, depriving him from contact with the others.

Where were the familiar sounds of the children getting ready to leave for home, the enthusiastic yells of the janitor sweeping down the hallways, of a Principal leading a kid into detention for sneaking into faculty rooms? They should’ve been there, where were they, _come on, Baldi, get up and have a look_. But his legs refused to budge from their spot beneath the desk. A sudden flash of dread pooled in his stomach, gathering there heavy like concrete to keep him in place. _You don’t want to go there, you shouldn’t go_, pure nausea pleaded with him, sinking into muscles and bones and his brain, whispering, hissing, _stay still, stay still and we might make it out alive_.

His own body was preparing itself for something. It knew something he didn’t, the thought bringing up a lump to his throat he couldn’t swallow back down, stubbornly clinging on as if to say stay quiet, don’t make a sound. _You don’t need to know what’s happening, just trust us_.

_What did you find, what is so horrible you can’t share it with me_, Baldi tried reasoning with his hearing, _why can’t you let me know, can’t you trust me_?

If his hearing could speak, it would say it’s not about trust. It’s about keeping you safe from _that._

The _that_ in question was in the process of dragging its cold fingertips up Baldi’s lower back, the chill penetrating clothes and skin and boring into the nerves, hungry.

Baldi would’ve shouted if he’d been able to. Fear had snatched up the start of the sound in his throat to suffocate it in its harsh grip, crushing it into a soft, strained gasp.

  
_What is that what is that what is that who’s that how’d they get in without him noticing?_

Baldi’s instincts screamed at him, rapid flickers of sharply contrasting orders and begs of _turn around, turn around and take a look at him_, and _don’t do it don’t do it, you don’t want to know what he is_.

Morbid curiosity prompted him to turn around what little of him wasn’t frozen stiff to glance behind him. It’s not easy to describe what happened to him when he locked eyes with the entity looming behind him. There were no words to attach to the flurry of sensations that dug in deep to violate the core of his being, but the best explanation that he could offer – that still couldn’t even begin convey the true, massive depths of the burrowing alien feeling – was that his brain had simply shut itself down.

His vision was blurring at the edges, too overwhelmed to try grasping just what it was that he was staring at, each blink slow and harsh to try and jostle his brain back into action, forcing a reboot upon it. _Don’t leave me now, I need you, what is that, what’s that what’s that_.

It was nothing. Hovering before him was pure _nothing_, nothing at all but still something, a t-shirt and jeans pulling it into a familiar yet utterly wrong shape of a human being. There was nothing else to it save for the mess of short hair and the worried brows perched upon a set of eyes, wiped clean from everything else. Each excruciating second of looking at him, _it_, tugged at the knot that kept Baldi’s perception of the world wrapped up in a simple, care-free and easy package. A sight so unnatural it challenged how he viewed the reality around him._ Don’t unravel it, please, don’t unravel me, I don’t want this_.

A mouth he couldn’t see opened and out poured pure harsh noise, the flood of it white-hot against his delicate ears, _scraping tearing stabbing_ its way inside his head. His listening that had valiantly tried to shield him from harm relented under the force, bending, creaking, and finally snapping. Noises that had been held back now drowned Baldi in the raging sea of their intensity. With his hands still petrified from the shock, he could do nothing but sit there as it hit him, forcing him to take it all in, pain crackling in his ears like embers. It was all coming from him, _how how how, how could someone sound like that_. That-- that thing with a deformed body, its-- its entire being was screaming at him, giving voice to overwhelming emotions - _he shouldn’t be able to hear those_ – that plagued his existence. Vibrant rage and misery in audible form assaulted his ears, so vivid he had to blink away tears. Somehow, Baldi could--- he could hear that the rage especially was directed at him. _What had he_\--

The torrent of it came to an abrupt halt with a beep loud enough to leave Baldi’s ears ringing.

Silence fell over the classroom. The Principal’s whistling was audible in the distance; his hearing had returned to normal, a fact he wasn’t sure whether he should be happy about, considering his current situation.

There was a distorted smack of lips being opened followed by an invisible tongue wetting them.

Baldi held his breath. Fear held the rest of him in place.

“Oh, um… jeepers. Let me give that another try…” it was a surprisingly normal voice for a horrifying being, even with the hint of static it held. “What I wanted to, um, I--” another beep cut him off, “Oh, oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t control that--!” the entity spluttered upon noticing Baldi wincing at the noise. “I’ll try to… I’ll try to keep it simple, so that won’t happen again-- let’s… let’s see here...”

There was a dull click. Baldi’s chair had turned around in the blink of an eye , providing him with a full view of the hovering figure before him. _How’d he_\--

“It gets… well, it gets rather lonely in here. That loneliness can turn out quite-- quite frustrating, you know? You can’t get anyone to… um… to touch you when you look as-- uh-- as bad as me. See where I’m going with this?”

Baldi had an inkling that he did and an even stronger sense of foreboding about what was going to come next. _He didn’t like it_.

“So I’d been, um, I’d been thinking. I could--” the next word was another harsh blast of sound, “--your mouth. I mean, that would be alright, no one gets hurt, since none of this is--”

The beep was even louder this time, momentarily turning Baldi’s thought process into mush. _He didn’t like that either_.

It was the part about his mouth that concerned him the most. He wouldn’t do_ that_, would he?

There was a sharp clack of an invisible nail against a metal button, followed by the unmistakable drag of a zipper sliding open tooth by tooth.

His gaze fell on the being’s crotch.

If you had asked Baldi that morning how he’d predict his day to go, he would’ve folded away the newspaper with rather dry comic strips (that still earned a couple of chuckles from him) to ponder the question. Same as any other day, he would’ve replied. Baldi was content with each school day going through its usual, predictable motions. But – to be honest – he wouldn’t have minded just a little surprise to break the monotone pattern. Nothing major, he’d be fine with something miniscule.

Although all of this had been left unsaid, fate had decided that yes, today was indeed a good day to catch Baldi Baldimore off-guard and spice things up. Nothing could’ve prepared Baldi for the sight of the entity’s undone jeans, something – he knew what it was – invisible and heavy spreading the fly wide open.

Baldi’s brain gave up on him again, already too worn down by its previous attempts to comprehend the impossible existence of a being that no human being was ever meant to see. His instincts followed suit.

All that was left behind was a hazy mind and limbs left stiff by shock.

“Ah-- ah...” his throat felt way too tight, constricting the words that attempted to climb up and out of his mouth. He couldn’t squeeze anything coherent past what felt like a narrow barricade.

“Sshh, it’s fine,” there was a sense of pressure on his forehead, spreading into five even points. _A hand_. The invisible hand smoothed down the lone piece of hair, curving down to cup the back of his head. It was a rather gentle hold considering the upcoming horrible event. Baldi wanted to move his hands up from his lap, _move, please, you have to move_, but he couldn’t, they wouldn’t respond to any of his commands. It couldn’t have been just shock that kept them there. The thought of that thing having something to do with it made his stomach gurgle from nausea.

Another hand - _cold_ \- jabbed a digit at the corner of Baldi’s mouth, pushing at the skin, forcing those plush lips to part. No-- he grit his teeth together tight. _No, no, it wasn’t going any further than that._

The pad of the finger – _cold and clammy_ \- stroked at the lip it was resting on. A hum of approval. “Ah, they-- they really are as soft as they look. That’s good,” the thing murmured. “I’ll, uh-- I’ll take a look in here next,” a fingernail clacked against Baldi’s teeth. _No, no, no. He was keeping it shut_.

Had this been the reality that Baldi knew, one which obeyed the rules of logic, that would’ve worked.

But this entity had carved out a place of his own in this world, his very own pocket of reality that followed his own set rules. And Baldi was the unfortunate visitor of that pocket. Whatever the entity wanted him to do, he would have no choice but to obey.

And so two blunt nails wedged between his teeth, scraping, opening wide, forcing the jaws to part to accommodate. The move was light and smooth; it was as if the force put behind keeping his teeth shut tight meant nothing to that thing. Those fingers wouldn’t budge at his futile attempt at gnawing at them. “Oh, this is-- I think I’ll really enjoy this,” the hand that had messed around in Baldi’s mouth withdrew.

Baldi attempted to close his mouth. No luck; his jaw remained stuck wide open in the exact manner the being had wrenched it to. Cool air tickled his tongue, brushing against the insides of a mouth left in a vulnerable position.

He would’ve thrown up right away had his paralyzed throat allowed it.

Although his jaw was stuck the way it was, he could still move his head, _thank goodness_, deciding to take a look at a face that he shouldn’t be looking at – it didn’t do his mind any favors to be exposed to that.

The look that those distorted eyes held was calculating, curious, like a child excited to explore their new plaything. _He didn’t like it_. He didn’t like the return of those fingers; they curled his lips over his teeth, _so you won’t scrape me, _he was told, and they were left stuck like that, the same manner as his jaw. He didn’t like having his head tilted this way and that. Baldi was being handled like he was a mere possession of that thing, something to arrange as he saw fit.

“That’s… ah, that’s it. Hold still now,” and hold still he did. Involuntarily. He wasn’t given any say in the matter.

That hand drew back yet again, this time to wrap around the invisible cock hanging out of the jeans. Based on the curl of his fingers, unable to meet up to form a proper circle, it was a very thick one, too.

Baldi rarely cursed, but right now his mind was smashing together as many of them as possible. The amalgamation of swears grew fast, but they just weren’t enough to convey the frustration and terror coursing through him. He didn’t want this,_ let me go, please let me go_.

“...Um, I just realized that I didn’t introduce myself. That’s, eh, that’s kinda rude from me, isn’t it? I’m about to--” a beep that made Baldi’s teeth ache for a split second, “--your throat, so it’s only fair you know my name too. Not my old one, I think I-- I prefer the new one. Just…. Just call me File, alright?”

File’s cock head rested its weight on Baldi’s tongue, _hefty and warm and too real_, forcing Baldi to taste him, _bitter salty sweet_ a taste that had no specific flavor to it that he’d be able to recognize. A low whine was all that he was able to force out when File ground the tip against the tongue with lazy thrusts, drool beginning to pool under the trapped weight of it. He could feel its thick veins, twitching with blood, still growing.

The hand cupping his head stroked at his all too warm skin with a tender brush of a thumb. “It’s-- oh, it’s so good, it feels-- like the--” another sharp beep clouded Baldi’s vision. “--no, it, uh-- it feels even better than the rea--” a beep that punched all the wind out of his lungs, “--thing. Here we go...”

A raspy inhale was all he managed to take when File nudged at his chin to tilt his head back, turning it into something pliant and light, severing Baldi’s ownership of it, making it his, _I have a better use it for you than you do, so be good and don’t try moving it, alright_?

The thick, hot length of his cock pressed further on, slipping deeper into the wet and warm confines of Baldi’s mouth, still growing. Past those lips, past that mouth, past the teeth at the back, bumping against his throat.

His gag reflex was abolished the second it made contact with File’s cock – an unintended but welcome side-effect of something otherwordly interacting with someone whose capacity wasn’t meant to handle an anomaly like File. _Let it be over soon_.

A soft hum - like File was appreciating a fine piece of art instead of having his cock lodged in Baldi’s mouth - trembled in the air, tickling Baldi’s ears, _no, at least leave those alone_. Another shift of his head, and--

File rammed the entirety of the cock into his mouth, enveloping himself in Baldi’s warmth, forcing the fat tip past the throat_ into it_ the frantic pulse in his neck vibrating against it _it’s weight pushing and pressing his throat to stretch to unnatural lengths to accept it_.

Baldi’s eyes rolled back in his head, slipping into a resigned half-lidded state. He was cutting off his air. Drool resumed gathering under his tongue, enough to send streaks of saliva dripping down the corners of his mouth, cool in the chill air of the classroom. File began thrusting, a cruel, rough pace born out of all his pent-up frustration, and here was a perfect, unwilling outlet to take it out on, to break and destroy and fill up. Baldi couldn’t move, frozen in place as File’s cock fucked his throat, the head of it dragging against the velvet smooth lining with each pull out of his warmth. It was invisible, but he could picture its shape and length in his mind through the presses and pushes of it on his tongue and in his throat and--

His mind was still running at a full yet frantic capacity much to his horror, forcing him to acknowledge what was going on, stopping him from slipping out of reality and into the depths of his mind, somewhere safe from File’s influence. File didn’t bother pulling out of his mouth more than a few inches before slamming back inside, pursuing a quick release, hissing and growling and _how didn’t anyone else hear what was going on_?

Air was, apparently, a luxury File had decided that Baldi didn’t need, never withdrawing enough for him to properly fill his lungs, _choke on it_, rasps and gurgles spilling with each pitiful amount he was able to breathe in through his nose. The sharp and quick inhales weren’t enough to keep him at a comfortable lucid state. Fuzzy darkness consumed the edges of his vision as File fucked his mouth, strong-tasting precum splurting out at copious amounts to slick up the way, balls smacking against Baldi as his nose pressed into the invisible coarse hair. It was all too warm, it was all too stifling, it was--- it was getting harder to think straight, it--

“You feel-- you feel so good, you know? Ah hah, look-- look at you down there, you don’t need to, ah, you don’t need to look that upset, none of this is r--” a sharp beep that made Baldi’s vision black out for a few seconds, “--l, you can’t possibly die from this, can you? I don’t think you can, this is harmless.”

Harmless was the last word he’d use to describe the torture he was being put through. His air was being robbed from him by a cock that shouldn’t even be able to fit in him, tearing at a throat that was contracting in a desperate attempt to dislodge the intrusion, only to coax stuttering moans from File.

Each thrust and grind and throb was breaking him, pulling apart the more simple, the more normal constructions that made up who Baldi was, warped moans and inhuman sounds scratching at his ears to make their home there to reduce his brains into a headful of slush. That taste, that awful taste of him was spread all throughout his mouth by his saliva, kicking his tastebuds into overdrive, every shove and pull making him taste _salt and File and himself and the world and the little particles_ that made his reality, frightening tastes that were both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, not meant for human consumption. They pulled again at the knot that kept Baldi’s perception of the world in a simple, ordinary bundle that was easy to understand, nails sinking into it to pull and pull and pull to yank it all loose, _let me undo you_, each thrust jolting his body back as his eyes stared at nothing at all, unfocused. One more weak little tug and that knot came undone, now in the merciless hands of File who proceeded to retie it to fit his image, to fit his understanding that Baldi wanted no part in, the remnants of his brain struggling to adjust to the changes forced upon it.

Funny thing, this lack of air. Blotches of black danced in his vision, his thoughts wobbling and melting and vanishing all at the same time, but there was no struggle left in him, no gurgles or chokes. His eyes were locked onto File’s, the distorted eyes squinting and scrunching, speaking of his overwhelming pleasure, but none of that registered in Baldi’s head. There was just comfort in the thought that he’d die soon, he’d die and leave this all behind, leave behind the new mindset he’d been thrust into – _File dug his nails into the back of Baldi’s head with a growl, drawing blood_ – a fact that he was completely fine with. What sat in the chair right now, having his throat and mouth _fucked and plowed and destroyed_ were the remains of his old self, dying, and he wished to go with it, pleading, don’t leave me behind, I’d rather go with you. The heavy weight of File’s precum sloshed around his stomach, dumped and spilled there through a throat he couldn’t close. _It was all File’s now to ruin and fill, to mark it as his_. Baldi didn’t find enough energy in himself to care about it anymore. _Keep it._

“Fuck-- fuck, fuck-- I’m-- ah, getting closer--!” File hissed, and suddenly there was a hand grabbing and choking Baldi’s throat, nails digging into muscle with the intent to bruise. He was jerking himself off_ through and with_ Baldi’s throat, nothing more than a human cock sleeve to a higher being to use and discard, depriving him of air, crushing the esophagus and trachea to fit them tight around himself. He was suffocating on cock and precum and his own drool, too copious. _Taking my cock is all your throat is good for now. You don’t need to breathe_.

“This-- ah, I wonder if I could-- oh-- I wonder if I could make the rest of, um, the rest of your insides fit around me like this? It’d be-- it’d be nice to have another round later--” none of File’s rambling was registered by Baldi’s decimated hearing, and even if it was, Baldi’s mind wouldn’t have been able to handle it at the moment. “Maybe in front of-- in front of that Pri--” he didn’t even react to the harsh beep, “--I bet he’d-- I bet he’d be horrified, that poor-- poor little thing… maybe aroused, too--”

It was-- it was still funny, the lack of air. He felt cold, numb, and he didn’t think about dying. There were just-- thoughts. Simple, ordinary thoughts of something normal, an escape provided by his mind. He had-- he had an exam ready for his class tomorrow, they’d been doing so good at math lately, he was-- proud of them, really. The grip tightened, killing the thought to let a different one take its place. The Principal had been looking so tired lately, hadn’t he? He worked-- worked too hard, and Baldi wished the man would take it easy, before he’d be taken to an early grave, that couldn’t--

His hearing crackled and his vision held nothing but darkness.

Finally--

Before he could embrace the sweet release of unconsciousness, File growled, strangling him harder, thrusting once, twice, hard--

And then he was coming down Baldi’s throat with a distorted howl, hot spurts of cum splurting and splashing down the throat that had already been generously coated with it, thick and sticky and so heavy. His cock pulsed against the weak pulse of Baldi’s neck, twitching and emptying all he had into the depths of Baldi’s stomach, forced to bear the great volume of it, too warm and sloshing. Worst of all, he _could_ take it; he was used to eating a lot, so his stomach allowed the vile matter to come rest within the confines of it without a protest.

A click, and his throat was free of a strangling hand and a suffocating cock. His body, _his own body, not File’s_, snapped back into a proper working order, not a hint in sight of it ever having been frozen, drew his lungs full of air, and it immediately sent him into a coughing fit, air and saliva and cum burning in his throat, shoulders heaving from each rough hack. Careful, careful, careful, don’t throw up now, he didn’t want to paint the classroom with-- with--

_Cum_. His stomach was filled to the brim with an unnatural entity’s cum, every swallow and breath making his throat ache and bruises in bleeding crescent shapes lined the back of his head.

He wanted to throw up, but he couldn’t.

File was still there, tucking himself away, belt softly clicking back into place. “Jeepers, I-- uh-- I needed that, you know. Thanks, I guess,” it was like he was speaking of some mundane favor Baldi had done for him, instead of--- instead of _that_. _It sickened him_. “You’ll be-- uh-- you’ll be fine, right? Not that that it matters, since, well--” Baldi was already squinting, expecting another beep, but nothing came. There was just the shrug of File’s shoulders, and he blipped out of sight, taking all its sounds and overwhelming sensations with it.

Baldi was alone again.

He swallowed back bile burning at the back of his throat, his lips swollen and numb, jaw throbbing with a dull ache. His mind raced as it tried to come in terms with his new sense of perception that had overtaken his old way of viewing the world. It was-- he looked down at his arm, rotating it up and down, elbow dislocating in its usual way to allow for a wider range in the wave of the limb. He couldn’t help but stare at it, at something that he’d always accepted as normal, and now it filled him with unease. _It wasn’t normal for an arm to function like that._

…

Baldi wiped away the stay streaks of drool from the corners of his mouth with his sleeves, thinking too many thoughts at the same time, it was-- it was overwhelming.

There was a knock on the door before it creaked open, revealing the Principal looking at him through the gap, fingers drumming against the door frame.

“Are you alright, Baldi?” the Principal asked, his voice monotone, paying no mind to-- to-- _the bruises and swelling and splotches of cum and saliva and blood_ that were surely still there, still visible, he could feel them, how could the Principal not see them? _…How hadn’t he heard all those unholy noises coming from File_?

“I-- yeah, I, I think I am,” Baldi said, his voice hoarse from the abuse his throat had gone through.

  
The Principal didn’t notice it either. “Oh, that’s good. I was wondering whether you’d like some coffee? I’ve got a fresh pot at the faculty room and some pastries too. No going home hungry in the halls.”

_Have you noticed that our janitor is a talking broom_, Baldi wanted to say. _Sometimes your facial features blur together into incomprehensible porridge, sir_.

But he couldn’t do it, the warm volume left behind by File sloshed in his stomach as he leaned back in his chair, a tired smile pulling at his bruised and swollen lips.

“That does sound good, sir.”


End file.
